(Editor’s Note: We often find ourselves traveling a different road in middle age. Sometimes that happens through our planning. Other times, situations happen — a divorce, an empty nest, a job loss, a death of a loved one — that throw us onto a new and unexpected path. How do we navigate these times? Doc offers some wise advice — and be sure to read both parts. Enjoy!)

THE RIGHT QUESTIONS (PART ONE)

What is the question?
What is the question that feels right
when you are on an uncertain road?

You could ask where is this road going
and of course that would be a natural question,
But then as long as you are on this road,
it is going where you are going.

You then might clarify and ask where will this road end up
for i want to know my future?
Some will tell you with great certainty
that they know their ending place,
but this future thought is largely designed
to give you comfort when you are uncomfortable.

Well okay then, what is a good question to ask?

The first is why am i on this particular road
and what are my choices if not this road?
Once you decide this is your road,
the next question is how do i want to show up
as i travel on this road?

Those two questions are enough.

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THE RIGHT QUESTIONS (PART TWO)

the right questions
send you forward into the next now
from your current now…
how now will you choose to show up
in this only special now
you are now given?

find the life-giving road,
the road that calls your name forward in ways
that promote your ability to thrive and flourish

seek the joy
seek the sunlight on your face
dappled through the trees
seek the love that comes
from loving who you are now
seek the love that comes
from being in wild beautiful place
with wild beautiful souls

How many times each day do you mean to say one thing but instead say another because you’re worried about what others might think? I have learned to accept that my struggles and challenges belong to me. What others think doesn’t matter. Instead, it’s important to be true to yourself.

I learned this lesson from experience. I became pregnant at the age of 15 and raised a beautiful daughter, thanks to God’s grace. Putting my commitment to my Higher Power first and then picking myself up by the boot strap brought me through the challenges facing me! I have learned that I may not control all the events that happen to me, but I can decide not to be reduced by them.

Instead, I’d encourage you to consider taking these steps in order to be true to yourself:

Know who you are. I learned to take time to consider and value what makes up the essence of who I am. I would encourage you to think about what kinds of things you would or wouldn’t like to do in your life and act accordingly. Find out through trial and error since exploring your options helps more than you might think it does.

Find your values. The culture, religion, mentors, inspiring people, education and families may try to set your values for you. However, it’s important to decide what resonates for your own life. Therefore, I’d encourage you to continue working through any conflicts that arise to identify what values feel most true to yourself.

The past is the past; you can’t go forward by looking back. Instead, allow yourself space to grow, to improve, to become wiser. Allow yourself to forgive past errors and past behaviors that you’re not so proud of. Work on accepting mistakes and choices you’ve made; they’re done and in the past.

Deal honestly with others. Be honest and open. What have you got to hide? We’re all imperfect. We’re also all continually growing and learning.

Stop caring about how people see you. Some people will like you while others won’t. Why fixate on the views of people who don’t like you? Let go of these concerns and be true to yourself.

Live in the now. Don’t worry about tomorrow or next week or next year. Don’t stress about your birthday or fret about some mistake you made last week that made you feel stupid. Live in the present!

Most importantly, we need to continually charge our batteries so we can be proactive in finding new opportunities to keep becoming who we are meant to be. As financier and philanthropist Bernard M. Maruch said, “Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind

Transitions tend to be times when we have a chance to evaluate our lives. I’m at one of those points now with the recent passing of my father at age 91. He lived with or near me for the last 10 years of his life so I was very involved in his care. Based on that time, I’ve developed a new theory of how to live a quality life.

Aim for Quality

So let me start with a metaphor to describe my new theory. In 2001, I started applying for graduate school. As part of the application process, I had to take a computerized standardized entrance exam. I poured over several study guides since I hadn’t taken this type of test in quite a while. One of the study guides gave an interesting tip — focus carefully on the test’s first 10 questions and try to get those correct. That’s because the test’s algorithm is set up to move you to a higher level — and thus, a higher score — if you get a majority of those first answers right. If you don’t do well on those early test questions, the algorithm automatically moves you to a lower level. At this point, you will never be able to attain a higher score, no matter how well you do on the remaining questions. So how does taking a graduate school entrance exam equate to life?

Dad and His Doctors

My father always enjoyed schmoozing and often picked his “team” based on how well they could joke around. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes you want to base your decisions on other factors.

Take, for instance, selecting a doctor. Dad had to find a new geriatrician when he moved closer to me. I periodically would join Dad for appointments with his new physician and soon realized that Dad enjoyed seeing his doctor because they would joke around. However, in my opinion, the quality of medical care seemed to be lacking since this doctor’s standard method was to prescribe another pill as opposed to trying to figure out if there was another way to deal with Dad’s health issues.

Our family at Dad’s birthday party in 2014 at the long-term care facility

A few years later, Dad was saddened that his doctor was closing his practice. I, however, was relieved. Then we began searching for another doctor. I had served on the organizing committee for the Alzheimer’s Association’s Walk to End Alzheimer’s a few years earlier and the committee members all spoke glowingly about this one doctor. I suggested him to Dad and we got an appointment. Fortunately, this doctor took Dad on as a new patient.

So what did this decision mean? In my mind, this one decision meant Dad moved up to the higher bracket. Dad had a doctor who listened, cared and made quality decisions. This doctor actually dropped a number of medications that Dad previously had been prescribed. These aspects were much more important in the long run than how funny he was.

This doctor also suggested a quality rehab facility where Dad could regain his strength after being hospitalized in 2013. That rehab facility – which also took residents who needed long-term care — became Dad’s home after a long hospitalization in 2014 when it became evident that he could no longer live with me. The entire staff – the nurses, aides, maintenance staff, activity staff, dietary staff, cleaning crew and administration — was so kind and compassionate and the care was consistently outstanding.

In September, Dad’s health deteriorated and he faced some very difficult choices as his body gave out on him. That’s where the quality of Dad’s earlier choices made a resounding difference. Dad’s doctor was willing to go to an out-of-network hospital to have end-of-life discussions with Dad during the last week of his life. The choice was to return to his previous facility with Hospice or go to a nursing home with a PEG tube. Dad chose to move back to his previous residence with Hospice care on a Friday and died the following Wednesday. Honestly, Dad ended his life being in the higher bracket because he had the type of death that you wish everyone would have – peaceful, no pain and surrounded by people who loved him.

Applying This Theory to Life

With Dad gone, I’m now trying to apply this theory in my own life, beyond just selecting medical personnel. In fact, I think it also applies in other ways.

Take food, for example. I’ve found that my digestive system has changed as I’ve aged. Menu items such as fried foods now disagree with me to the point of making me nauseous. Therefore, I’ve started listening to my body when making choices about what to eat. I’ve found that I physically feel much, much better when I eat more vegetables, fruits, grains and legumes and less meat, processed foods and sugar. And these choices are going to help my body function more optimally as I age. Therefore, by making these choices, I am moving myself up into a higher bracket in relation to my long-term health.

I hope you’ll try out my theory in your own life. Focus on the decisions and choices you have right in front of you. Do the best you can and aim for quality. Then see if those choices help you live a happier, fuller and more vibrant life.

Just as you reach middle age and think you have “it” all together, a major life change can happen in a blink of an eye. While you can plan for some of these changes (such as an empty nest or a move), other types of change – being fired from a job, a diagnosis of a terrible disease – come so suddenly that you are left just trying to catch your breath.

While I’ve experienced a few changes from both of these categories, I have never encountered the type of whiplash that just occurred over a six-week period. This major life change left me dazed – and facing the challenge of charting a new course sooner than I anticipated. Let me explain.

Big Dreams in Big Sky Country

I left in mid-August for a two-week vacation. This trip marked my first trip of any substantial length or distance in over a decade due to caregiving duties. My brother graciously agreed to stay with our elderly father so I felt comfortable traveling more than a few hours away from home.

Glacier National Park in Montana

My destination was Montana so I could visit my friend, Kaye. She put together an agenda that allowed us to explore two states (Montana and Idaho) that I had never visited. Our itinerary offered a wide range of new and old experiences: touring Glacier National Park, glamping, hiking, kayaking, contemplating the meaning of life at a Buddhist garden, visiting a museum dedicated to bugs, exploring galleries filled with area artists’ work, watching sunsets over the mountain range, stargazing, stopping at a roadside attraction called The Vortex, attending outdoor concerts and experiencing a Celtic festival.

What I loved most about this trip was the feeling of being so alive, thanks to the diversity of these adventures. I left Big Sky country feeling very rested and rejuvenated. I also contemplated how I could incorporate the trip’s intangible gifts – the feeling of exploration and a sense of deep engagement in life – into each day.

A Seismic Change

I returned home on my brother’s birthday; the next day was Dad’s birthday. We celebrated both of their special days with a small family luncheon attended by several relatives. It was a lovely afternoon filled with stories, laughter and conversation that both birthday boys – and especially Dad — treasured.

My dad with his dog, Austin

My brother left to return home the following day, a Sunday, and I settled back into my caregiving role. By 3 a.m. Monday, those caregiving responsibilities started becoming increasingly serious when Dad had to go to the emergency room. He was discharged later that morning; however, three days later he was back in the ER and then admitted to the hospital for a 72-hour period.

Discharged again, he bounced back a bit but ended up being taken by ambulance to the emergency room three days later. He was hospitalized for 11 days before being discharged to Hospice care. Less than one month after I returned home from that glorious vacation, Dad was pronounced dead.

The Aftermath

I’m now experiencing the ebb and flow of grief. I remain gobsmacked about the life change that played out during that six-week period. I am sad by Dad’s passing, but also have a sense of relief that he died peacefully, without pain and surrounded by the people who he loved and who loved him.

I’m not sure exactly what’s next in my own life, but I realize that my 11-year odyssey of caring for elderly parents is now behind me. I also find myself in awe of the vista full of possibilities and opportunities that is emerging in front of me. I want to make intentional choices in relation to these life changes so I can create the type of life I glimpsed during my vacation.

A Time of Change

With that said, I also have been doing a lot of thinking about I Start Wondering. My trip to Montana helped me start to consider what the next phase of this website should look like. Then just as Dad’s health was starting to decline, I took some steps toward making those thoughts a reality.

Little did I know at the time that what I was planning for this website would dovetail so quickly into my own personal evolution. Therefore, I plan to serve as I Start Wondering’s beta test subject for how the combination of wonder and intention along with remaining open to whatever life throws at you can expand the quality of life for an older person.

To make that happen, I’m adding some contributors to this website who will write on big topics that spark my own curiosity. The first columnist coming on line is Brenda Nettles Riojas, who will be contributing a regular column on creativity. Brenda always thinks outside the box and likes to push the envelope; I’ll always remember her telling me at a restaurant in Seattle that her philosophy of life is to eat dessert first – and last! She’s definitely a multipotentialite — a mother and wife, woman of faith, humanitarian, writer, poet, photographer, public relations professional, cyclist and adventurer. Brenda continually seeks out ways to follow her muse and encourages others do so through leading a number of different types of seminars and workshops.

More new contributors will be announced in the future. In the meantime, I will continue to share my own experiences related to this most recent life change. Also watch for stories about people who are engaging with their life in new ways and resources that may help stoke your curiosity. In going forward, I hope you’ll join me in a renewed sense of wonder and embracing the possibilities, even when faced with a major life change!

This guest column is written by Liz Summers, a multipotentialite if there ever was one. She is a scientist by day and a lover of rock bands no matter when. She also owns and rides horses and loves nature. Speaking of the latter, she will be contributing a periodic post on that topic for I Start Wondering. Stay tuned!

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I made a pilgrimage recently – leaving in the early workday afternoon to drive, with steadfast conviction, the 183 miles from my place of work to the Gexa Energy Pavilion in Dallas, TX. The inexorable lure propelling this drive was a concert being held by the iconic hard rock group, Black Sabbath.

Liz Summer’s view of the stage at the Black Sabbath concert.

The Dallas show was part of the final countdown – less than 20 show dates remain until the Grand Finale outro show on a tour succinctly titled “The End.” The fair-thee-well show will be held in Birmingham, England – the formerly grim, working-class town where it all started nearly 50 years ago. Remarkable, despite decades of prototyping and test driving the excesses that came to be known as the “rock and roll lifestyle,” the four original members are still alive, although only three – Ozzy, Geezer and Toni – will be playing in Dallas.

I went to Dallas to pay respects and homage to the aging founding fathers of “my” genre of music and to celebrate. I celebrate good fortune at having been alive during the remarkable period in musical evolution from the late 60’s to the early 80’s that saw the development of progressive rock/art rock/hard rock/heavy metal as a grass roots, organic process, fueled by youthful energy, imagination and drive, and whose innovation, nuances, artistry and technical mastery are likely to never be emulated again.

The assumption for many years was that the dynamic wellspring of creativity was part of the “how it is” of life – like snowfall and rain. It was taken for granted that bands like Queen, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, UFO, Thin Lizzy, Styx, Yes, Foreigner, Kansas, Genesis, Iron Maiden, Rush and more would either be around forever or would be replaced by sonically similar bands. Never a huge concertgoer, I let several decades pass without going to a single concert of any kind. Let’s just use the trite but accurate excuse that “life got in the way” – with studies, marriage, kids, careers and the slight logistical issue of living more than 2 hours from the nearest concert venue dominating all decisions…. At the back of my mind during those busy decades was the assumption that there will be time in the future to see at least some of my favorite bands.

Liz Summer and Nile Rodgers

Then in 2011 I woke up out of the “must behave like a socially dictated grown-up must act” trance and realized the expiration date for my bands was approaching. The founding members of these bands are my old friends growing older, with surviving artists now in their 60’s, and 70’s. There is no way to change the past, only to change my actions now.

To rectify this oversight as best I can, in the last several years I’ve seen Rush (9 times), Yes, UFO, KISS, Def Leppard, Alice Cooper, Joe Walsh – and more – whoever I could possible squeeze in or drive to. Remarkably, concerts are more fun and exciting than ever – the unparalleled raw power of live hard rock fed through stacks of Marshal amps, the adrenaline surge, the awe-inspiring mastery of their craft.

Ultimately though, it is the fans that are the best – people whose lives converge in celebration of a sonic style of musical prowess in the autumn years of its natural expression. The new age of social media has opened the door to making permanent connections with equally obsessive fans, whose musical tastes intersect mine. This has been a true joy – connecting with people I feel I’ve known all my life, because the soundtracks of our lives are the same. Let’s just say — if the boys are back in town, go see them now!

Recently, I found a picture of my fifth-grade class taken in San Antonio oh so many years ago. Interestingly, the class wasn’t homogeneous; my classmates were of diverse heritages, cultures, talents and abilities (one of my best friends in the class was deaf). Yet to me – standing proudly in the back row in that picture – none of this mattered. My classmates were my friends (and we were focused on defeating the other fifth-grade classes to win the school’s soccer trophy).

I don’t remember thinking about these cultural differences until we moved to West Texas. My sixth-grade teacher was African American and the first black person that I remember having the opportunity to know at any level. He became one of the most influential educators in my life – someone who inspired excellence and creativity and epitomized the joy of learning.

A few years later, my mother told me about her trip to that school to register me as a new student. When meeting with a school administrator, Mom asked that I be assigned to the best sixth-grade teacher. The school official quietly replied, “He’s black. Does that make a difference?” My mother answered with a resounding no. (And just for the record, she made sure that my younger brother also was placed in this teacher’s classroom when he reached sixth grade.)

Based on how I was brought up, black lives – and Hispanic lives, Asian lives, lives of people who are deaf, and the lives of everyone else, even if they have different beliefs or rituals than mine – matter. Therefore, my heart continues to convulse in pain because of violence inflicted upon blacks, police, homosexuals, Muslims, Christians, Hispanics, Syrians, women and other diverse tribes across our nation and the globe.

Embracing Self-Responsibility

While I may not be screaming on the mountaintops (or social media, for that matter), I resolve to double down on the only part that I truly can control – myself. I pride myself on having a diverse contingent of friends. However, I now realize that I must do a better job of reaching out. I need to meet and learn about people who on first glance are different than me.

To that end, I recently went to a Ramadan dinner hosted by a local Turkish group. It was my first experience (to my knowledge) of interacting with Muslims, a group being vilified in the United States and around the world. I found the dinner’s hosts to be good, intelligent and welcoming people. While they embrace a different faith, they also want the same opportunities for their lives, families and children as I do for my own life, family and friends.

Thinking for Myself

That experience is just one of many that reinforces why I refuse to engage in “group think” that seems to be overtaking many Americans. I believe that while tribes matter in providing a cultural perspective, each group also has some amazing individuals and some “bad apples.” I do not believe in stereotyping groups. Instead, I want to look at the heart and actions of each individual. In my mind, it comes down to personal integrity through thinking deeply about whether our actions are truly grounded in our values and beliefs. At various times in my life I’ve discovered a misalignment that needed to be corrected. I bet many will also find similar types of misalignment if they take the time to truly reflect.

With that said, I want to learn more about the diverse individuals and tribes that make up our nation and world. At times this may be an uncomfortable process because I will come up against my own preconceived notions that have hardened after so many years. Yet I believe this reflective process will help me to identify more similarities than differences. In turn, I believe this process will help me become a more humane person.

Asking the Hard Questions

I also need to do a better job of speaking up about what I’m learning. I am uncomfortable yelling on Facebook or Twitter, but I no longer can avert my eyes when rash and hateful statements and actions emerge. I am taking this sad moment in time as an opportunity to explore and evolve, which goes to the heart of lifelong learning.

At this critical juncture in our nation’s history, I truly believe that learning about others is a step that every person in America needs to take. Our country’s forefathers dreamed of a land of opportunity. I, for one, commit to helping make those opportunities available to individuals – even those from a different tribe than me — as long as these individuals are committed to the basic principles and hard work on which this country was founded and prospered.

Kaye recently returned from her latest adventure – hiking part of the Appalachian Trail. She kindly shared her experience in the post below. Enjoy!

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Since retiring a year ago, I have relished a newfound sense of freedom and made the decision to live life to its fullest. Now when opportunities present themselves, I have started saying “why not?” instead of automatically saying no. That’s why, when an email appeared from an all-woman adventure travel company with a last minute opening for an Appalachian Trail hiking trip, I did not delete it. I actually stopped to consider the possibilities. As a novice hiker and an introvert, tackling this famed trail with 12 strangers sounded challenging, scary–and pretty fun. So of course I signed up! The result turned out to be a rich, memorable experience that was even more than I expected.

The Appalachian Trail is over 2,200 miles long, stretching from northern Georgia to Maine, and takes approximately six months to hike through. Thousands of “through hikers” attempt to complete the entire trail each year but only a few hundred actually make it. The trail is quite challenging–winding through wooded areas, up and over mountains with plenty of rocky terrain and steep inclines. That’s why I was thankful we would only be hiking small portions of about six hours each during our four-day adventure.

When I arrived in northern Georgia, I was picked up by the company van and introduced to my fellow travelers as we drove to the iconic arches that mark the beginning of the Appalachian Trail. Instead of being hot, as I had feared, the spring weather was quite chilly as a cool front blew through and doused us with rain. We trudged along the trail, wet and shivering, and were eventually rewarded with a gorgeous waterfall. The rain finally broke and the skies cleared as we completed the muddy trek back to the van. We then made our way to the hostel which would provide us with sparse but comfortable accommodations for the week. The best part of that evening was a hot shower, followed by a wine tasting provided by a local vineyard. Who knew Georgia had wines–and they are not all made of peaches?

Over the course of the next few days my companions and I tackled parts of the Appalachian Trail, wondered at beautiful waterfalls and sampled a variety of Georgia wines. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience and, upon returning home, it occurred to me that lessons learned on the hike could also be applied to life in general. Here are a few of my thoughts:

Focus on the present – Hiking the trail forced me to pay attention to where I was every single minute, otherwise I could easily trip over rocks or tree roots and go tumbling off the path. Turning around to look behind me could be equally as dangerous. I found it really helped to just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other instead of dreading the incline up ahead.

Savor the surroundings – Paying attention to where I was going was obviously important, but pausing to appreciate the beauty made the journey more enjoyable. There were often quiet moments on the trail where I could just soak in the scenery and listen to the sounds of nature–the roar of wind through the trees, the singing of birds or the gurgling of rushing water.

It’s all a matter of perspective – After hiking in the woods for hours, stumbling upon a primitive privy with wooden walls and AN ACTUAL TOILET SEAT felt like the most luxurious thing in the world. A simple sandwich was an incredibly satisfying meal in the wilderness. Our hostel, which was equipped with bunk beds, felt like a palace compared to the pop-up tents we saw along the trail.

Kaye at the top of a vista

Celebrate the differences – One of the most enjoyable parts of the trip was exploring a new part of the country and interacting with people who were different than me. My fellow travelers were women from all across the country with different ages, fitness levels and backgrounds who spoke a variety of languages (yes, North Carolinan is considered a foreign language). But we all seemed to be able to find things in common, including the shared sense of accomplishment when we reached our goals.

Adventure is a lifestyle – The women in my group were all very well traveled. One woman in particular, who was 68 years old, had hiked all over the world. She not only kept up with us, but actually outpaced other younger members of our group on the trails. I loved the fearless, open-minded attitude I saw displayed by my fellow hikers and made a personal goal to always keep learning and exploring, especially as I get older.

Like many people, I claim I like change. At various times during my life, I’ve even described myself as a change agent. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that my appreciation for a transition in my own life depends on who is in charge of the change.

I’m in Charge Here!

Like most people, I am more likely to embrace change when I am the one who chooses it. For instance, I just completed a 21-day clean eating plan. I am in a much happier place being the one who decided to change what I consumed for three weeks instead of having it forced on me. (Still, I must admit that I’ve missed you, cheese and wine.) I selected this option because I believe this three-week jumpstart would allow me to get back in touch with what’s going on with my body (which will be the topic of a later blog.) I committed to this short-term change because I believe it ultimately will lead to long-term health improvements through raising my awareness of my relationship with food.

I’ve also made bigger changes during my life – taking another job, enrolling in graduate school after 20 years out of the classroom, moving to another city. Being in control when making these larger transitions helped me build a launch pad to deal with both the expected and the surprises. The sense of anticipation and the thrill of discovery outweighed (for the most part) the potential terror of being a novice again.

Who’s in Charge Here?

I’ve also experienced changes that weren’t in my control – flooding in my home after a torrential rain, unexpectedly being thrown into a caregiving role, getting laid off. Those changes weren’t ones that I would have chosen but they offered a silver lining through providing important life lessons — a new perspective about what’s an inconvenience vs. a crisis due to the flooding, a recommitment to compassion from caregiving and resilience thanks to unemployment.

In hindsight, there were hints that several of these changes were coming; however, like most people, I ignored them, thinking that my day-to-day life would remain the same. I’ve learned that going through life wearing blinders can lead to turbulence that smashes you into hidden boulders in the river of life. The bruises that are gained from these life lessons are painful but extremely valuable – and also can lead to increased awareness when the warning signals of an impending change start to emerge again.

Quantum Change

But what about quantum change when you purposefully throw what’s working in your life to the wind and knowingly step into the void? That notion came to me after watching author Elizabeth Gilbert and her husband, Jose, discuss their decision to close their flourishing business in a YouTube announcement. Surely they’ve talked some about what’s next in their lives, but the video suggests that they are (again) purposefully leaving what is working to make room in their life for all-encompassing change and all the adventure (and learning) that comes with it. (And to a certain extent, this isn’t a surprise based on Liz’s globe-trotting adventure that led to her breakaway best-seller, Eat,Pray, Love.)

Still, that’s a level of change that I’ve not quite reached (and I daresay, most people haven’t either). Yet perhaps we should use Liz Gilbert’s video as a clarion call to seek out new opportunities and say yes to more change (and adventure) in our life. Let’s toast to that idea and to embracing change in all its forms!

It’s easy to get stuck in a mental rut. You think, “I despise this (insert name, place, activity, food, show, music here). I’ve always hated it and I know I’ll continue to hate it.” Then – surprise, surprise – something happens and you find you actually may like whatever it is that you avowed you hated.

Mark Rothko’s work from early in his career

That life lesson was reinforced recently when I came face-to-face with art work by Mark Rothko. Born in 1903, Rothko and his family emigrated from Russia to Portland, OR when he was a boy. The artist had varied interests, including music, literature and theater; in fact, he described his paintings as “drama.” Rothko continued to refine his work and earned his first important solo museum exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in 1961. However, Rothko’s health began declining later that decade and he committed suicide in 1970.

I first saw Rothko’s work at the Rothko Chapel, which is part of the Menil Collection in Houston. The chapel’s huge paintings are sobering blocks of dark color made by combining red and black; at the time, I really wasn’t drawn to them and questioned whether the artist needed any skill to create them.

An example of Rothko’s work in which forms in the painting started disappearing

It turns out that my friend, Mara, felt the same way after going on a chapel tour that included the Rothko Chapel as well as two other chapels with more “traditional” and colorful artwork. “I thought the Rothko paintings were depressing and I wasn’t enamored with them,” she said. “I didn’t get the point.” In fact, both Mara and I wondered whether the paintings were a reflection of his depressed state prior to his suicide.

Those few paintings colored both of our perspectives when we thought about learning more about Rothko and his work. “I knew he was a Russian émigré. I knew he was an abstract artist and I knew that he committed suicide,” she said. “I didn’t really pursue him. I just didn’t think I’d like his work.”

Then the Museum of Fine Arts Houston put together a retrospective of Rothko’s work that started getting great reviews. The advertisements with brightly colored paintings made both Mara and me feel like we needed to re-examine our views.

The exhibit was laid out in chronological order, showing Rothko’s technique in depicting forms in his early work. That proved to both of us that he had the skill set. “He studied and he was about being an artist,” Mara said.

Mark Rothko’s evolution continued as he created paintings that are saturated with color

Rothko’s work began to evolve and became spare as he focused on paring away figures in order to reach the essence of each painting. “So you see in his paintings fewer and fewer distinct forms – fewer people and more squares of color,” Mara said. “In that square of color, he also changes the shading.”

The exhibit provided context to the paintings that we initially dissed. One of the MFAH descriptions included comments by Rothko’s son, who said his father didn’t want the paintings in the Rothko Chapel to distract visitors from their thoughts. Instead, he wanted viewers to take a contemplative stance when viewing the Rothko Chapel paintings. “That was an interesting take on what I originally had thought was a big, depressing, ugly thing,” Mara said.

The MFAH retrospective also offered some background into Rothko’s suicide. It turns out that he was suffering from heart issues and could no longer paint. “He was an artist who couldn’t work anymore,” Mara said.

That exhibit sparked a reevaluation of preconceptions – and taking a different perspective when looking at art and life. “It’s a matter of deciding to reconsider your opinion – and my opinion was based on two paintings. He lived 70-80 years so there had to be more to him,” Mara said, adding that she also took into account a conversation she recently had with another contemporary artist when she was visiting the MFAH exhibit. “It doesn’t matter if I like it or I don’t; the question is whether I can appreciate that they were trying to say something. Just be open to what this person has to say.”

Original artwork created by Joaquin Gomez. You can contact him at joaquingomezsf@gmail.com

This week marks a change for many. For some, it’s watching the money in their bank accounts steadily decline as they race to buy the perfect presents for family members and friends. For others, it’s the change in season as marked by the Winter Solstice. I, too, can feel a change coming on – an internal transition as well as an external recalculation.

Part of this change can be chalked up to life transitions. For the past decade, I’ve been in a caregiving role, providing assistance to aging parents. My mother passed away in 2007, leaving an indelible hole in my life. My elderly father is now in the process of slowing down in the most elemental of ways. As his time in this world ebbs, I find myself trying to identify the next direction for my life.

This situation makes this holiday season at times bittersweet, yet still more meaningful than many Yuletides past. I’m not immune to the commercial pressure to “Buy, Buy, Buy!” However, I find myself increasingly questioning whether the latest gadget, bauble or novelty item will really bring me – and my loved ones — long-term happiness. Instead, I think of my parents – both members of the Greatest Generation – who accumulated a tsunami of material possessions. In thinking about the storage locker that was filled with the detritus of my parents’ lives – Dad’s executive desk that nobody now wants, 70-plus tubs of fabric that my mother was going to make “someday” and other odds and ends that seemed important at one time – I am starting to rethink each and every purchase that I make.

I also find that I appreciate the holiday season’s little things so much more than the fancy presents. My list thus far this year includes my second-grade neighbor’s gift of cookies that she baked with her aunt, a holiday dance performed by a group of youngsters that included dancers with Down syndrome, and the effusive hug I got from my teenage friend, Q (who was one of those dancers). I find that I’m especially thankful for loyalty, whether it’s the surprise of a Christmas card from friends and family members, the regular visits made by my uncle to my father, or my brother’s determination to be present with Dad during the holiday season.

These less-material gifts have caused me to continue to reassess. Recalling my parents’ flotsam, I find that I want – and need – to shed many unnecessary possessions and reorganize my home. At a deeper level, I also feel the need to shed some psychological and emotional layers. I want to reevaluate my beliefs, values and thoughts to see if they’re still valid for this next phase of my journey. I’m also trying to explore new ideas, new people and new opportunities – following what Elizabeth Gilbert calls the spark of curiosity.

My hunch is that you may be on a similar journey. Let’s resolve in this new season and the upcoming New Year that we’ll find ways to be the most authentic version of ourselves as possible. I look forward to learning from you and growing alongside you.